


The books are afoot

by BBMarcello



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Armie is an actor, Internal Monologuing, M/M, Sexy Times, Swearing, Timothée is a librarian of rare books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBMarcello/pseuds/BBMarcello
Summary: Rare book librarians tend to lead quiet lives and Timothée's life is the quietest of them all. Until it isn't.





	1. Ladders

**Author's Note:**

> Very influenced by Notting Hill's story but with gayness, swearing, nerding out at First Editions. I was thinking about Julia Roberts's "just a girl, standing in front of a boy' scene and this fell outta me and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Disclaimer of not real life at all.

“Hey, can I come in?”

He was leaning against the doorframe, head down, ballcap pulled down low. If I hadn’t known that height, that voice, I wouldn’t have even recognized him.

I rolled my eyes, “it says public on the sign, you can do what you want.” I finished opening up the other door, putting the latch on and fixing the doorstop against it, a heavy fabric owl with reading glasses on, Kirsty’s version of a joke but the kids loved it, gave it a name, ‘Owly’, of course. I sighed and turned away from him, still leaning against the doorframe, twisting his mouth. Time was he’d have been right back at me with a witty retort. Now, he just looked up at me, no more words. “Jesus, stop with the eyes and get in here.”

I pulled his hand away from the door, laced his fingers with mine and retreated back through the room, shelving chores forgotten for now. I pulled him into my office, ignoring Kirsty as she stopped mid-book shelving and stared at us, closed the door on her wide-eyed stare, open mouth, probably about to say “holy frickin’ shit” or something like that. He let go of my hand and slumped into the corner of the couch, head down again, elbows on his knees. Another eye roll from me and a deep sigh as I closed the blinds on Kirsty’s face, a quick shake of my head towards her. Locked my office door and turned back to face him, what the fuck did he want from me?

“Well? I assume you’re not in deepest darkest Hartford for your health.” Shitty tone, I know, I know, after two years of silence, I was just getting started.

He laughed and lifted his head, finally looked me in the eyes. He looked dreadful. “No, not here for my health...I...I guess...guess you haven’t seen the papers this morning?”

“My inability to function before this place is open hasn’t changed in what, two years since I last saw you? Two years since you fucked off out of my sight in the morning, never to be seen again?” Me bitter? Dur! He opened his mouth but I held my hand up. “If the next words out of your mouth are ‘sorry’ or any derivation of ‘sorry’ then you can fucking close that mouth of yours again, I’m not interested.” His mouth closed again with a snap. “Now, as I said, what are you doing here?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “you never said-“. At my pointed stare, he stopped himself and swiped his hands over his eyes. He really did look terrible, like he hadn’t slept in weeks not days, his beard was grown in and, as he removed his ballcap, I saw how greasy his hair was. Had he lost weight as well? Certainly not a movie star at this moment in time. “If you’d seen the papers this morning, you’d know and...here”, he pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket, swiped a few times and handed it to me. On his screen was the Mail Online, piece of shit trash paper that it was, with a headline of ‘Nailing Hammer, Big Time!’ and three photos of a blurry Armie, nude with two other men in the photos.

He ran his fingers through his mop of hair, “they’re everywhere, it’s so stupid, they were taken years ago, I’d just moved back to LA, was auditioning everywhere, living in a shithole, I needed the money.”

I passed him his phone back and sat down next to him. Jesus. “Did you fuck ‘em?” Je-sus, Timothée, where’s your brain to mouth filter? “No, sorry, don’t answer that, it’s none of my business.” Not anymore, not in two years now, maybe not even then.

He shook his head, “no, no way, they were just very well arranged shots, I got 500 bucks for two hours in a shitty studio downtown, got to pay my rent on time and get a new outfit for my next audition. It was stupid but they were stupid times, desperate, I couldn’t go home.”

“Armie,” he looked up at me properly then, god, I still wanted to kiss his stupid face, even after all this time. “Why are you here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go, Liz threw me out. I was on set when the pictures came out yesterday, a great film. All of a sudden, my agent was there, the director called me over and that was it, I was off the film. Just like that. It’s a Disney backed film. Went home, no more home.” Tears started flowing down his cheeks, I couldn’t hug him, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, I just.

“Come here”, I opened my arms and he slumped over onto me, such a big guy, so curled up and small. I hugged him to me, his head resting on my chest, body shivering. “Jesus, shhh, shhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Liz wouldn’t let me into the house, screamed at me at the door, said I’d disgraced our family, ruined her fucking business, I could hear the kids screaming for me, crying. She slapped me round the face, slammed the door. I got a text from my lawyer last night, divorce started, the works. I can’t even see the kids right now, she’s taken a fucking restraining order out on me, just horseshit. We’ve been going to shit for a while, since, well, you know, but yeh, bare ass all over the internet, last straw.”

What a fucking mess.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go, the fucking pictures are everywhere. I just got on a plane and ended up here, I’m sorry, so sorry.” I rubbed his arms slowly, jesus, he had lost weight, kept shushing him, telling him it’d be okay. He stopped talking then stopped crying, deep rhythmic breaths against me. He’d fallen asleep, something I’d seen before, all that emotion just pouring out of him to the point where his body just said sleep, so he did.

I eased him off me and lay his head back onto the couch, turned him as I stood up so he was laid down, grabbed the blanket off the arm to cover him up. I squatted down in front of the couch, gently pulled his shoes off, stroked his stupid gorgeous feet, shook my head at myself. What a fucking mess.

  
**Three years ago**

“Excuse me, have you got-“

I didn’t bother to turn around, balanced on the ladder as I was. “The public area is back that way pal, no books for you here.” Goddamn yummy daddies, always coming in here asking for the latest Teeny Tiny Rabbit or Horton does a fricking Who, I just wanted some peace and quiet. I felt the ladder jig slightly and looked down to a truly astonishing pair of blue eyes looking up at me from the bottom of the ladder.

“Actually, I was told to ask you about the Oz edition I’ve been looking for, the girl up front said it was back here and that you’d be happy to help me?”

Jesus Kirsty, a warning might’ve been good. She knew better than to send anyone to me before 10am and my fourth cup of coffee, what was the point of a warning system if she didn’t use it! I knocked the bell that was on a pulley by my head, put the book in my hand back on the shelf and held on to the top of the ladder. “Can you move a sec?” I looked down at blue eyes.

“Oh, sure, sorry.” Blonde tusselled hair shifted away from the ladder and I took the opportunity to slide down, feet either side of the rungs, landed firmly and dusted my hands off on my pants. “Now, what can I do for you Mr-“. I looked back up, “oh holyfuckadoodle Hammer!”

A laugh burst out of those gorgeous lips, “I usually just go by Armie, no holyfuckadoodle needed.” He smiled at me and I peed my pants. No, I didn’t but it was a close call.

Armie fucking Hammer, Oscar winning actor, was standing in front of me, hands in his jeans pockets, swaying a little back and forth on his feet, goddamn, his feet were big.

“Are you okay?” Just go by Armie was looking concerned at me now, pretty accurately as I think the world had just stopped turning and all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, along with my dignity. I shook my head then tucked my hair behind my left ear again.

“Shit, sorry, Mr Hammer, Armie, right, shit, what can I do for you?” Smooth.

“Wow, I’d heard you were the pre-eminent brain on First Editions round these parts, I didn’t realise you’d be so eloquent."

Well, now he was just pissing me off, again. I really needed that fourth cup of coffee. “Actually, studies have shown that swearing is a sign of high intelligence and free-thinking.” Timothée, shut.up.

His face crumpled, the smile gone. “I see, I’ll leave you to your swearing then, you probably can’t help me, sorry”.

“Ahem, excuse me mon petit dauphin, here’s your coffee.”

We both looked to the door as Kirsty breezed in with my keepacup and a take-out cup. Dammit, she knew not to bring hot drinks in here. I pulled off my white gloves and hustled them both back out of the room. Once we were back in the main library room, I took my cup from her and she handed the other one to gorgeous facechops.

“Thanks”, he said to Kirsty and her smile lit up her face.

“Oh my gosh, you are so very welcome Mr Hammer, it’s such an honor to have you here and I’m sure Timothée’s been nothing but helpful to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you right away, we don’t tend to get many, well any really, famous people in our little library.” Kirsty, seriously?

“Honestly, that’s quite alright, though the coffee’s very much appreciated. Erm, Timothée?” He looked at me but I was busy communing with my coffee so just gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Timothée was just about to show me the Oz first edition so I could compare it with the one I found in Seattle”.

I was? “Right, yes, I was. Thanks for the coffee Kirsty, much needed. Erm, yes, Mr, erm, yes, Armie. If you’ve had enough of your coffee, we can leave them out here and I’ll show you the book.” I took a big gulp of my coffee, surely my brain was going to come on line at some point this morning. “This way, please.”

I turned back to the rare books room but caught him smirking at me as I put down my cup on the table. Stupid, beautiful smirk. This wasn’t going to end well.


	2. Seattle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Books lead to more books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning into a sloooow burn. It'll be worth it, I swear. Next couple of chapters are mapped out in my brain already. Thank you all for the comments, kudos and general love. This Timothée is quickly showing the dweebiness that seemed to be bubbling under the surface when I met him briefly. Ridiculously good-looking, vastly intelligent but yeh, also a bit of a dork. The whole Dorothy of Oz storyline is dedicated to a late friend of mine, she's much missed.

 

“So, what we call a 'good' first edition will be intact, see? Jacket, spine, pages. An 'immaculate' edition, that’ll look like it just left the printers. See how this one’s cover is still bright? It had one owner before I found it and they’d kept it out of the light.” I ran my gloved hand over the cover, the lettering as crisp as the day it’d been printed. Stupid facechops was leaning over the table with me, one blond lock falling over his forehead, stupid forehead. “If we look inside, then-“

“I don’t get it,” he said. Jesus.

“Get what exactly?” I was ready to expand on any part of the printing process, the land of Oz, what could this man not get? It’s a book, it’s incredible, end of.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude but it’s like I’m talking to a completely different person than the one from ten minutes ago. You’re so into this and less, well harrumphy.”

I looked at him. “I’m not harrumphy and, and, that’s not a word anyway. I’m just...I’m not a morning person, never have been. It takes at least until 10am and at least four coffees before I can function properly.” I realised I’d put my hands on my hips and yeh, I looked harrumphy alright. “Kirsty knows not to let me speak to anyone until after 10 and four coffees in, that’s why I rigged up the early warning system.”

He laughed lightly, “the what? Is there a nuclear device I’m not aware of in amongst the Iliads?”

I nodded over to the far shelf, “that bell, see? It’s attached to a rope running through to the front desk. Anyone needs me in the mornings, Kirsty pulls the rope, rope rings the bell, I come out and chug coffee before having to speak to anyone There’s a bell in here and one in my office.” I shrugged my shoulders, it was a good system, until today.

“Sorry.”

“You say sorry a lot,” I pointed out the obvious to him because clearly that’d help this conversation.

“And you’re harrumphy and kinda misanthropic but that’s okay, takes all sorts.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Here, this is the Seattle copy, tell me what you think.”

I took his phone and scrolled through the photos. “You don’t have it here?”

“No, I told him to put it aside for me until I was back on the west coast.”

Oh, holy jesus. I zoomed in on one of the photos. “Which bookstore?”

He frowned at me, “Palin’s on 5th and Main, why?”

I straightened up and shouted, “Kirsty! Shit, sorry Mr Ha-,Armie, it’s just, don’t move, stay right there.” I ran out of the room slap bang into Kirsty by the door. “Ah, Kirsty, great, you’re here.”

She smiled at me, “yes, your worshipfulness, you shrieked?”

I shook my head at her, “no, I didn’t, I don’t shriek. Can you grab my rolodex from my office?”

“Sure thing, sweetcheeks. Anything I can get for you, Mr Hammer? Tea, coffee, me?”

He laughed loudly, “no, honestly, I’m fine, thank you.”

I tapped my foot against the door and waited for her to come back, all of me starting to vibrate.

“Here you go, anything else?” Kirsty asked.

“Nope, no, nothing, nada, thanks.” I shut the door in her face to a shouted “you’re welcome”. Turning back to Armie, I was all smiles, biting my bottom lip, head bobbing up and down.”

Armie gave me serious side-eye. “Okay, now I’m thinking there’s at least three Timothées in that head of yours.”

I held my finger up to shush him, flipped through my rolodex and found what I was looking for. Called the number with my finger still held up.

“You do know that’s my phone?”

“Shush! Hi Trevor? Hi, hi, hi, it’s Timo, how are you? Yes, I know, what a fucking riot, they suck so hard.” I held the phone away from my ear and whispered “Seahawks” to Armie. “Anyhoo, you’re keeping hold of the Dorothy for Mr Hammer, yes? Fantastico, okay, he wants it, how much?” I turned to Armie, whose eyebrows were starting to reach his hairline. “12 all in? Ship it here? Fabulous. I’ll email you the details for billing now. No, pleasure, pleasure, of course.” Armie moved to one of the lounge chairs, dropping into it with an exasperated look on his face. “Yes, yeh, I know, I know, dur. Okay, ciao, ciao Trevor, ciao.” I threw his phone back to him and sat down on the wooden chair next to him.

“What just happened exactly?”

“That copy you found is fricking beautiful and there is no way Trevor would’ve kept it for you for more than a few days. Honestly, it was buy it or lose it.” I shrugged at him. “You’re okay for twelve grand, right? Big movie star like yourself?”

“It didn’t sound like I had a choice in the matter.”

“Honestly, that’s a steal. It’s worth about 125, 200 grand on a really good day at the right auction.”

“Holy shit, really?”

I smiled at him, like the happy book loon those photos had made me. “Yep. What Trevor wouldn’t have realised is that the edition you saw, well, just bought, has two typos on page 62, misprints that made it through.”

“But I-“

“Didn’t look at page 62? I know, you didn’t have to. There’s a tiny dot on the publisher page that no one else knows about and it’s on your photo. There’s only one other immaculate edition with those typos and I just showed you it. That’s how I know about the dot.”

Arnie put his head in his hands and started shaking. What? “Erm, are you okay?” I really wasn’t sure what I’d said that’d produce tears. The value, maybe? But he’s a film star, what’s anything less than a million for him?

He sat back and I realised he was silently laughing. “Yes, I’m fine. I just, I honestly just thought it had pretty pictures so I was buying it for my niece, she’s five.”

“You moron! I mean, oh shit, I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Wow, like I said, eloquent. Look, tell me what I need to do and I’ll get out of your hair.”

I’m the moron, good grief. “Erm, here’s Trevor’s contact details, just email him your bank transfer details. He’ll already be packing it up to come here.”

“Here? Crap, I’m only in town for this, I’m shooting out of Boston for six weeks then back to Seattle.”

“Trevor won’t ship first editions to private addresses, you’ll have to come back. Erm, it’ll be here by weekend after next if Saturdays are better for you?” He’d have to come back, maybe I could grow a less dweeby personality by then. I looked him up and down while he checked his calendar on his phone. What a pretty moron. Ah well, only one more conversation and I won’t have to deal with my own awkwardness again, well, not in front of a six five chunk of gorgeousness anyway.

“Yeh, okay, I’ll come back for 10,” he smiled at my scowl. “Joking, I’m joking! I’ll come after lunch, say 2? Cool, Saturday the 17th. You’re in my phone so that’s in my brain now.”

“ Sure.”

“Don’t you have to write it down? You might be busy that day.”

“I won’t be.” That stupid smile again. “I mean, I’ve got an eidetic memory, I know my whole schedule for the next month.” And it’s fricking empty every weekend until the end of time. Just me, my books and lots of pizza.

“Of course you do.” He was still smiling. Shit, stupid Hollywood smile that probably appears at the drop of a hat. “I’ll be going now then, I’ll email Trevor and I’ll see you on the 17th, Timothée.”

I stayed by the table and watched him walk out, just managing a “bye” as he closed the door behind him. So his ass distracted me, so what?


	3. Loncraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To see what a first good edition looks like, go to Https://ozbooksworld.smugmug.com  
> As ever, I'm learning as I go when it comes to rare books :-).  
> Thank you all for the love for this fic xx

  
“The only way they could leave was through the secret door!” Twelve little faces stared up at me, mouths open, eyes wide. “Tara pulled the book from the shelf, ‘it’s not that one,’ cried Sam, ‘try the next one, hurry Tara, he’s coming!’ Tara reached for the next book on the dusty shelf, closed her eyes and pulled. There was a low rumbling and-“ I slammed the book closed, “until next time, little ones, we’ll leave Tara and Sam where they are, the haunted house creaking around them, bwahahaaa!” A chorus of ‘ohs’, ‘aws’ and ‘Timmy!’ filled the room as I stood up from my perch on the little stool. The parents came forward and helped their kids stand up, some of them rushing off to the shelves against the far wall, probably to see if they could find the secret door. Little did they know there was actually one in the rare books room, a trompe le’oil door hidden as a bookshelf with a small button to open it. Guggenheim had built the library and he’d clearly had a good sense of humor, the secret door led down some steps to a small bathroom. As the kids left, I started picking up the cushions and bits of cookie strewn across the carpet. Storytime was never not messy.

“Erm, Timothee?”

Oh shit. I turned around and Armie was behind me, of course he was early, of course. I raised my eyes to the skies and plastered on my best smile. I’d been mentally preparing for him coming back to Hartford for the last few days. He was coming in on Saturday afternoon so I’d be functioning a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw him. I’d got up early this morning and dragged myself out for a run, always best achieved before I was actually fully conscious. My route was set round the lake so I could run with my eyes closed if necessary, something that often happened. I got back at 8, had a shower and then spent the next hour debating what to wear. I ended up with most of my clothes on my bed, throwing a balled up pair of socks at the wall in frustration when I realised it really didn’t matter what I wore, everything I owned either had a ridiculous slogan on it or made me look like a book nerd, which I am but I don’t need to look like it. I really needed to stretch my work wardrobe beyond waistcoats and smart pants. Mr gorgeousface was looking beautiful as usual, not a dweeby waistcoat in sight. “Hi, Armie, how are you?”

He frowned at me, “I’m fine, how are you?” He looked me up and down and then down again.

I looked down. Balls. I pulled the purple cape off my shoulders, undid the rubber sword from my belt. “Storytime, for the kids, you know?”

He smiled at me, “sure, of course, storytime.” He took a step forward and raised his hand, shit, I forgot about that, he took the hat off my head, the feather blowing. “Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“No, just, erm, a story.” I shifted from one foot to another while he ran his goddamn long fingers across the brim of the felted hat.

“Nice.”

Seriously, those fingers could do some extensive work on me, I’d just need five minutes and some chocolate sauce.

“Is the book here?”

I came back to him, realising I was staring at his hands holding my hat. I took it back from him and cocked my head to the left, “yep, it’s here, come, come.” I led him back to the rare books room, folding up the cape and throwing the whole outfit towards the couch. And here we were again, leaning over the table, so close I could smell his cologne, nice, subtle and woodsy, yum. “Gimme a sec,” I said to him and walked over to the side table, his package sitting on it, patiently waiting for his return. I handed it to him.

“You haven’t opened it?” He seemed surprised as I bounced on the balls of my feet.

“Nope, it’s yours, the reveal is half the fun.” Tim, you moron, shut up, he doesn’t need your awkward literary based version of flirting, it’s not good, no one finds it good, they’ve told you, repeatedly.

“I dunno, I rather prefer the full story, laid out in full.” He smiled at me as I handed him a letter opener to tear open the end of the package. Holy shit, was he awkward literary flirting back with me? No, surely not.

He slid the book out from the brown paper and a piece of paper came out with it. Crap.

“Erm, I’ll just take that, it’s probably Trevor letting me know about another book I talked to him about a while ago, erm, a Chekhov.” As Armie laid the book out on the table and started leafing through it, I turned away from him to read the note.

 _Timmy Tim Tim, my boy, here’s your Hammer special. It’s a beaut! And don’t forget what I said on the phone, he’s beautiful, you’re desperate, it’ll get dusty and close up if you don’t use it so get to it, well HIM anyway! LOL._  
_Trev x_

I am surrounded by geeks and perverts.

“Should I be wearing those white soft gloves?” Ack, no, where's some latex gloves when I need them, please god. I stuffed the note in my pocket and turned back to Armie.

“Nah, you’re okay as long as your hands are clean and you’re just touching the edges. The book’s yours now so, unless you’re looking to sell it-shit, are you looking to sell it? You can’t!”

He raised one eyebrow at me, closed the book again. “I’m not going to sell it but, I have to say, you’re mighty possessive for a book that I bought.”

I looked back down at the book, opened it to the publishers’ page, there was that dot. I ran my thumb over it. “Sorry, it’s just, it’s beautiful, immaculate, see?” I flipped through the pages to one of the illustrations, the Wizard cutting the Sorceror in two. “They stopped colour plates in 1935 but these are so of the time, see?” I turned to the Dorothy and Ozma picture, “this was 1908, belle epoque, laudunum, absinthe. It’s all there in the illustrations, dark but beautiful, just like the story.” I turned to page 62. “Okay, let me just grab this.” I pulled the magnifying lamp over to us and we both leaned over. “See, here are the misprints, 'Mangaboos' is misspelled as Mangaboss and see, the word 'hole' here, see how the e has an extra bit to the tail? Those little words, there’s your 200 grand.”

“Wow.”

I felt Armie shift next to me and I looked away from the magnifying plate, only to find his face a lot closer than I was expecting. I couldn’t help it, a gravitational force was pulling me towards him. His nose moved against mine, then his lips were on mine. Oh, maybe that was flirting then?

“Mmm,” he pulled away from me slightly and his eyes opened. “I-“

I pulled on his jawline, “shush” and kissed him again. Damn. His tongue moved against mine and we both straightened up at the same time, him wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me in, that gravity all his own. Those fingers, damn, they rubbed against my spine but then he slowly let me go, his lips leaving mine.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I-“ He’d gone slightly red in the cheeks.

I shook my head at him, curls falling over my forehead again “No, honestly, it was my fault, I-“

“Can I see you again? I mean, without the book, that is, erm, a coffee, maybe?” He tucked my hair behind my ear, good goddamn. I grabbed his hand and held it in mine, rubbed my thumb against his palm. Jesus, those massive hands.

“Yeh, yes please, I’d like that.” His smile could’ve lit up the town square. Mr Timothee Hammer, Mr T. Hammer, hmm, it did have a nice ring to it, aw rings, hammered silver, yes. I heard a cough. He was staring at me again. "Sorry, I drifted off, what did you say?”

“I said I’ll meet you after work today if that’s okay? If you know anywhere good around here for coffee?”

I hadn’t realised I was still holding on to his hand until he pulled his away and put it in his pants pocket. Oh jesus, I didn’t want to think about where that giant hand was going. “Yes, coffee, fab. There’s a great place just round the corner. Meet me back here at 5?”

“On the dot.”

He leaned forward and I thought more kissage was going to happen but he just picked up his book and walked back round the table to leave. He lingered by the door for a moment but then opened it and walked out, leaving me with a pile of brown paper, a filthy note from a randy bookseller and a massive hard-on. I looked up at the clock on the wall, five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

 


	4. Date Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick interlude so y'all know this universe is still going. Work has been craycray but is starting to settle down so I'll be writing more on this very soon (probably weekly updates) and we'll be getting back to the here and now next time. Thank you all for your patience and love x  
> ===============

“Hi." Gosh, he was pretty. Frickin annoying but pretty.

I smiled at him and pulled the door closed behind me, Kirsty could deal with shelving tonight, I had a date, an actual date, with a human and everything! “Hey, so the coffee shop is just this way, they’re open ‘til seven.”

“Great, lead the way”, he said and smiled back at me. The cafe was only a couple of doors down from the library so it only took a couple of minutes to have an awkward ‘after you, no, after you’ moment at the door and then be ready to order at the counter. I got a millefeuille and a hot chocolate, he got a cappuccino. Then another awkward tussle over who was paying so we just split it instead and took our drinks and the pastry over to the window table. After we’d shed our coats and settled in chairs, I pushed the pastry towards him. “What’s this?”

“An apology pastry, for, you know, the kissage earlier. I was out of line, I-“

He waved his hand at me, pulled the plate towards him. “Honestly, no apology needed for, you know, the kissage, it was yeh, very much welcomed.” Wow, he blushed really prettily. “But, I’ll accept this anyway. Thanks, for the pastry and the kissage.”

“Millefeuille.”

“Mille what?” He cut a piece off with the fork and ate it, eyes turning to the heavens.

“Millefeuille, it’s French.”

“Mille fantastic is what it is, yum. I dig your pronunciation, do you speak French?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, looked down at my drink, stirred the chocolate syrup on the surface of the mug, mumbled at him, “yeh, French, Italian, Spanish, a bit of Russian.”

His hand, dusted with icing sugar, appeared in my eye line and he lifted my chin with it. He looked serious. “Whoever told you to not be proud of that? I think it’s amazing. I can barely speak English most of the time.” He ran the pad of his thumb across my chin as he let go of it. “Sugar, sorry.” I blinked at him, I didn’t know what to say, he’d seen straight through me. I shrugged and lifted my mug for something to do. He sat back in his chair and continued to look right into my soul with those eyes of his. “When I have to learn a language for a role, I just learn it as phonetically as possible and I always have a dialect coach on hand too. I think it’s pretty hot that you speak so many languages.”

“Hot?”

“Hot.”

I shook myself, tried to find some brains in me. “So, what are you doing in Boston? A film?”

“Yeh, it’s a Villeneuve film, very different from his other films, a lone wanderer in modern America. I’m here for a few more weeks and then we’re finishing off in the Pacific North West again.”

“Denis Villeneuve? Damn man, he’s a master. I’d be very jealous if I had even an actorly bone in my body.”

“I dunno, your haunted house acting back there was pretty awesome.”

“Nah, kids are very easily pleased. I’m pretty much making up that story as I go.”

“Really, it’s not the book you were reading?”

“Nope, that’s just for show, it’s a big, easy to slam shut book. The story is all up here.” I tapped my head, brushed a curl out of my eyes and behind my ear for the millionth time that day. I really needed to get it cut at some point.

“Linguist, writer, rare books professor, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Erm, well, function in everyday society and keep a boyfriend?” Shit.

He popped the last of the pastry in his mouth. “Well, here’s hoping to you becoming a functioning member of this planet”, he said and clinked his mug against mine.

Man, he really did know how to make me smile.

 


	5. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing adventures of stupid facechops and boy wonder...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present  
> =========

Now.

 

I looked up from my desk to see Armie waking up, eyes blinking at me, those gorgeous lips smacking together.

“How long was I out?”

“Hey, not long, but it’s close to lunchtime. You want some food?” I am nothing if not a good host or an idiot, tomatoes, tomahtoes.

He sat up and stretched his arms above his head, clicking his neck one way then the other. “Depends, you making it?”

I rolled my eyes at him, “don’t worry, no arsenic for now, I’ve run out. We can go to the-“

“Yeh, no, I erm, I’d rather not wander around town too much right now”, he said with sheepish eyes.

Well, bullshit to that. “So now I’m your delivery boy?” I stood up and grabbed my wallet anyway, I was hungry, what of it?

“Sorr-”

“Enough with the sorries, please. I’ll get some food, we’ll eat, then you can help me catalog these slides. I’m stuck here until two-thirty and you’re, well, just stuck here so you can make yourself useful, okay?”

He nodded, “yeh, sure, thank you, you know?”

“Shut up, please. I’ll be back in a few.” I closed my office door behind me and was confronted by a cross-armed Kirsty.

“Timothée”, she loud-whispered at me “What the fuck? What is he doing here? What the fuckity fuck is going on?”

I grabbed her shoulders lightly and moved her to one side, cocked my head towards the entrance in a ‘come the fuck outside’ gesture. There were quite a few people in the library but I was pretty sure old Mrs Lafferty wasn’t about to drop her skirt and streak across the aisles, at least not today. I ran down the steps outside and stopped by the old lamp post. “Dear god, Kirsty, tell me you’ve got some cigarettes on you?”

She pulled a pack from her skirt pocket with a lighter and lit up two cigarettes, passing one to me. “Only ‘cos you said to promise to only give you one when it was a double double jeopardy emergency and I’m guessing from the unexpected visitor this morning and the last three hours of dead silence coming from your office, I mean, seriously, even with a glass up against the wall, nothing, nada, zip, that this is truly, spectacularly a double double jeopardy emergency.”

I sat down on the grass verge, breathed out the smoke, “yeh, fuck, yeh.”

She slumped down next to me. “You now, I really don’t give a shit about why he’s here, I just want to know if you’re okay? Are you okay?”

I crossed my legs, leant over my knees, stupid skinny knees. “Me okay...or I will be...I think.” I took a quick puff and stubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of my shoe. “I think...I think he needs a place to be for a little while. I think, god, I can’t even believe I’m saying this, I think that place needs to be me, for a little while.”

She leant over and hugged me, blew smoke over my shoulder. “What a little asshole.”

“Him or me?”

“Honestly? Both of you.” She leant back and shook her head at me. “Come on, you go get me a sandwich and I’ll check on the Kerry twins and their inability to put their books back in the right place.”

I gave her another hug as we stood up, resting my head on her shoulder for a second and breathed in deep. “Thank you Kirsty, seriously, thank you. You know you can’t tell anyone he’s here?”

She gave me a little shove away from her, that raised eyebrow always meant trouble. “Best make that a steak sandwich and a big old slice of their chocolate cake. That’ll be my silence bought, for now.”

I headed off down the street, turned to smile at her and she poked her tongue out at me then headed back inside.

================

It didn’t take long to get lunch from the cafe, Kirsty’s steak sub and cake, my tuna melt and stupid facechops’ ham on rye, I doubted his tastes had changed in recent years, at least for goddamned sandwiches. I walked back into the library and saw a couple of people waiting at the desk so I stuck the paper bag behind the counter and smiled at them. “How can I help you today?” Ten minutes later, a Bukowski, two late fees and a sticky kid’s return later, I left Kirsty’s lunch on the desk and went over to my office, only to bump into her as she came out of there. “What are you doing?”

She squeezed my cheek, “nothing, just saying hi to the Armster, you know, I’m a friendly gal.”

“Hmm, your pricey lunch is at the front desk.”

“Thanks, Princeling sweets.”

I walked into the office and locked the door behind me. Armie looked like he’d seen a ghost. “You okay?”

“Er, yeh, sure, much as I can be. I just need to sleep with one eye open for a while, apparently.”

I unpacked our lunch, handed him his sandwich, shrugged at him. “Well, she means well and, you know, she was here for...yeh, all that, so yeh, she’s not your biggest fan.”

“Thanks, for the sandwich.” He attempted a smile at me but it dipped into a frown pretty quickly as he sat back down on the couch. “I really fucked you up, didn’t I?”

“Take the ‘you’ out of that sentence, please." I sat down behind my desk, I needed the barrier between us. Unpacked my sandwich and just stared at it. “I’m not gonna tell you you’re not a bad person, Armie, even though, deep down, I know you’re not but yeh, you epically, catastrophically fucked up. You can stay here, with me, for a while but just, just tread softly okay? You pretty much already stomped all over my dreams a while back, I’m gonna need a minute or two to deal with you in the here and now.”

“Yeh, okay.”

Fucking tortured puppy faced bastard, looking like that then, jesus. “Armie?”

He looked up, clearly hopefully. “Yeh?”

“Eat your goddamn sandwich, please.”

He chuckled lightly and got back to his lunch. Silence and slide cataloguing couldn't come quick enough.

 


	6. Shark Vs Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've surprised myself with no x-rated scenes here, don't worry, that won't last ;)

Now.

“Fifty-two, Dante frontispiece, 1895,” I dictated to him as I leant over the slide desk, one eye down on the magnifying round. “D95, PTN, 2.” I leant back up and cracked my back. “Okay, I’m done for now.”

“Thank God for that!” He sat back in the desk chair, pushed the laptop away from him, cracked his knuckles.

A couple of hours of cataloging had meant blessed silence from him and a long list of titles and catalog numbers from me. I checked my watch, just gone three. We could leave now, I just had to figure out how. It was nigh on possible to disguise a six foot five beast of a man on a normal day, let alone one whose ass was currently on every front page and all over Twitter. I stood up and rubbed my hands together, flexing my fingers back to life. “Ok, I've got an idea to get us out of here but you're not going to like it”. I smiled at him, genius levels of subterfuge were coming together in my brain. I grabbed my phone off the desk and texted Kirsty. She came back with an aubergine and a peach, hilarious, not. “Ok, we're all set, grab your bag. Erm…” I cast around and spotted the dress-up box, rummaged in it and pulled out a MAGA baseball cap, handed it to him.

“You’re kidding me?” he held it back out to me but I pushed it at him again.

“Nope, we don't need you to blend in, just look average so we can-“ The fire alarm started blaring out so I had to shout as I grabbed his hand, hat now on his head, his bag in his other hand, “-escape undetected! Come on!” I opened the office door and we instantly blended in to the file of people leaving the library. The bustle of the local volunteer firemen coming in added to the crowd. I pulled him out the front door and we peeled off from the crowd to the left of the library steps. A block away from there and I sped up walking, keen to get us both out of sight as quickly as possible.

“I’d forgotten.” I looked at him but he was just looking around us.

“What?”

“How beautiful Fall is here.”

I shook my head at him. “Can you save the nature trail for when mevery old dear on the street isn’t looking out for your bare ass? Come on!” We got to my house and we both jumped the two porch steps. I unlocked the door and shoved him inside.

He smiled tentatively at me, “you know, no one will put two and two together so quickly. I mean, no one knows we were-“.

“Yeh, I know, sore.point. Take your coat off and shut up, please.” I ran upstairs and got changed into some comfy track pants and a hoodie, leaving him in the lounge for a while. Yep, I sure as fuck knew that no one, beyond Kirsty, knew about us.

 

3 years before.

We ambled down the street, it was still pretty warm out. Two rounds of hot drinks in the café and wed talked a lot of randomness. Turned out we had the same taste in cheesy horror films, Bait versus The Grudge remake being a particularly thorny debate. I mean, honestly, Sarah Michelle Gellar’s cute as a button and all but who would rather enjoy her big sweaters and scared face over a massive shark in a tsunami flooded store, getting tasered! Obviously, I was the right judge and he was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Armie had shoved his hands in his pockets after he’d held the door open for me as we left the café.

“So, what else do you do around here for fun, other than watch bad films and bury yourself in books?”

I shrugged, “honestly, not a lot. I’m a bit of a homebody really. I know there’s a whole world of music and dancing and all-nighters and fuckboys out there but I’d rather curl up on my couch with a hot cocoa and a book for the night.” Lame, I knew I was lame but I figured honesty was better than him waiting for a more interesting person to appear next to him and then being disappointed when it was still just me.

“Me too.”

I stopped in my tracks, “what?”

“Yeh, I’m, well, not a huge fan of the whole go big or go home Hollywood lifestyle. You should see my house, erm, I mean, sometime. Well, I’ve got the world’s comfiest couch, no lie. Seriously, it’s a corner couch that takes up most of the lounge and it’s so deep I can sleep on it without laying sideways. It’s super soft corduroy, chocolate brown coloured. It’s heaven in couch form. I’ll happily spend a Saturday night on that couch, old movies, a good scotch, that’s my heaven.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

I scrunched up my forehead, lines be damned. “You’re really annoyingly perfect.” Indubitably so, in fact.

“Ha! I’m really, really not. There’s a big ole laundry list of imperfections, honestly.” He stopped walking and stepped close to me, held his hand out to mine.

“What are you doing?” Wow, soft, soft skin, super wow.

“See?” He turned his hand over and mine with it. “My index finger is shorter than my ring finger, cut off the end of it with a whittling knife when I was five.”

I ran my thumb over his palm, “kinda young to be playing with knives.”

“That’s what my Grandpops said when he was kneeling in the grass, trying to find the tip of my finger.”

“Gross.” We stood there staring at each other, hand in hand. I tilted my head to my left. “You wanna?”

“What?”

“Come inside. This is my place.” He looked up at the house, then back at me, lifted his other hand and tucked that damn stray curl back behind my ear, smiled at me, nodded. Pulled me in closer, held my hand to his heart. Jesus. I stepped back, pulled my hand free, “we should get inside.”

“Yeh?”

He looked so hopefully. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, I just couldn’t stop the pull towards him. He liked me – dumb, annoying, geeky me. What else could I do? I walked backwards towards the house then turned and ran up the porch steps. “Last one in makes the cocoa!”

His laughing, stupidly tall self was close on my heels.

 

==

 

“Damn.” He exhaled and fell down next to me on the bed.

“Yeh”, I gasped for some air.

He sighed and stretched his arms above his head, a giggle bubbled out of him. “Well, that was the best damn cocoa I’ve ever had!”

“I’d slap you for the bad joke but I can’t feel my limbs yet.” Was there such a thing as paralysis by fucking? I didn’t think so but-. “Is there such a thing as paralysis by fucking?”

“Hmm, god, I hope not though I think if anything was gonna cause it, that last position would’ve.” He turned on to his side, wiped his hand up my sweaty chest, nuzzled against my neck. “You’re really something, you know? Jesus, that thing you did the second time, holy shit.” He leant over me, rested his hands on my chest, his chin on his hands, little laughter crinkles showing up around his eyes. “You know, I really like you, Timothée. I really do.”

I stroked that gorgeous jawline, five o’clock shadow coming through at gone midnight. “But?” There was always a but.

He leant up to kiss me, “no but”, snuggled into my side, leg slung over mine. “No but at all.” He closed his eyes and starting softly snoring in seconds.

Holy fuckadoodle, there was.no.but. That had never happened to me before.

 

==

 

I woke up to a loud cry of “shit”, opened my eyes and looked up from the pillow. Armie was holding his foot in his hand, rubbing it.

“Morning.”

“Hey, sorry, I was gonna wake you but not that dramatically. Stubbed my toe on the bed post.” He sat down next to me, leaned over, kissed me, heaven in those lips, that tongue. “I’ve got to get back to Boston, got a midday call.”

“Shit!” I sat up quickly, “what’s the time? I’m supposed to open today. Sundays are later but not that late.

He stroked my arm, kissed me again. “You’re okay, it’s ten to eight.”

I laid back down, pulled him down with me. “Thank fuck for that, not due up for another hour. Mmm, do you have to go right now? I’m forming whole sentences and everything, you’ve clearly fucked me into an early riser state of mind. Who knows how long that’ll last.” Not yet, not yet, don’t go yet, I tried to plead with my tongue, my hands, my hold on him.

One more kiss and he sat up again, freed himself from my arms. He looked pained, brow furrowed, “wish I could, gotta go earn those megabucks.” He stood up and finished dressing, that gorgeous ass covered up by jeans, furry chest hidden by a-

“Hey, that’s my hoodie!” It was one of my favourites, pink and soft. It was easy to get away with a pony pink hoodie when you never leave the house.

“I’ll get it back to you but, well, how about you get it when you come to the city next Wednesday? I’ve got a half day filming so we can do up the town right. Or, you know, get take-out and a movie?”

Second date, holy shit. Those nickels thrown in the town square wishing well were finally having an effect.

“Yeh, yes, please, I’d like that. Just to get my hoodie back, obviously.” We smiled at each other like loons until a car horn broke our gazes. He pulled the hood up, okay, wow, that comfy baggy hoodie really worked for him.

“That’s my car, I’ve gotta go. I’ll text you about Wednesday, yeh?”

I burrowed down into the pillow, could feel that lark feeling leaving me, so tired, so very fucked-out tired. “Yeh, yes, take care, ne-night.” He was gone in the next breath, I heard the front door open and close, a car door close and an engine rev. I had a date, A Nother Date! I also had a really, really sticky bed but clean-up could wait, sleep was calling me back into its embrace.


	7. Mr Heger really likes Dr Seuss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm a very slow writer, there's so much life going on...Have this mere sappy morsel as recompense, dear readers x (text messages are in italics)

**Wednesday afternoon, three years ago**

I stepped out of my house, car keys in my hand, and stopped in my tracks when I saw a black Lincoln sedan at the curb, a driver with one of those dinky hats on standing by the open passenger car door. O-kay...what? I walked over to him. “Can I help you? What address are you looking for?” I couldn't think of anyone this guy could possibly be picking up though I figured it was probably someone for prom, maybe Mrs Kidder’s daughter?

“Timothée Chalamet?”

I looked around me, surely not. “Erm, yes?”

“Great, I’m here for you. I’m to take you to Mr Hammer."

“Oh, that fucker! What a perfect bastard!” I laughed but got in to the car all the same, pocketing my own car keys as I sat back on the gorgeous black leather seat. Heated seat, nice. As we pulled away from the house, my cell pinged with a message.

_ARMIEEEE: Ok?_

_TIMTIM: Cheap bastard, where’s my stretch limo?_

_ARMIEEEE: 😊 next time._

I shook my head and watched the passing scenery as we drove from my peaceful little town to the middle of a Boston buzzy afternoon. We pulled up to a townhouse on a cobbled street, I’d been expecting a fancy-pants hotel. The driver opened the door for me.

“Thanks, that was awesome, my butt feels suitably warmed.” Dork.

The driver just smiled, “you’re welcome, Mr Chalamet. Enjoy your evening.” He nodded towards the house, as Armie opened the front door. What a welcome, that tall drink of water in the doorway. He pulled me in and shut the door, pushed me up against it and smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Nice car.”

“Yeh, some cheapskate got it for me.” I couldn't stop smiling at him. He ran his fingers up my sides, under my jacket, spreading them across the back of the dinosaur sweater I was wearing. What? I’d spent hours trying to figure out what to wear for the Second Date™ and I’d ended up with my cashmere dark brown sweater that had little mini T-Rexes all over it, black pants that could pass as smart if they had to and plain black boots. At least I had footwear on. I looked down and Armie's stupid gorgeous toes were right there.

“Thought we were gonna paint the town red, you’re not dressed?” I looked him up and down, he still looked great, in just worn down jeans that looked, oh yeh, _felt_ soft to the touch and a light blue sweater.

Armie pulled back from me, stroked his stubble. Sexy bastard. “Yeh, about that. I got a bit of a dressing-down by my agent for the other day. Apparently, the whole disappearing for more than twelve hours with no phone contact was a big old no while I’m on the East Coast. Janie okayed today but only if I’m easy to contact and close by. He shrugged, fingers tapping against mine. “Dinner and movie here okay?”

I smiled and pulled him back to me, kicked off my boots and stood on his pretty toes. “Indubitably. Show me your palace.”

He smiled wide, clearly relieved. “Honestly, thank you. Janie mad is a not a pretty sight.” I stepped off his feet and he kept a hold of my right hand as he led me through the house. “Okay, so don’t expect too much, I’m not here too often.”

I stopped by a big couch, “hang on, this isn’t a rental while you’re filming?”

He walked round the couch and knelt on the cushions, leaning over to get at my hands again.

“Erm, no, it was my Great Aunt’s and she left it to me in trust. I usually rent it out, but I ended the last lease when I signed up for this project.”

“Sweet, so we can mess up the furnishings, right?”

“Erm, sure, but-“

I pulled him forward for a kiss and then clambered over the back of the couch to settle in his lap. I sat my ass down on that gorgeous but clothed cock of his. “Okay, so let’s mess up the couch a bit, yeh?”

“Hell yeh!” He swung me round and laid down on top of me, stroking under my dorky sweater, making me shiver. “But don’t you want the tour?” He smirked at me as I pushed my hips up, feeling his hard cock against mine. I pulled him down to kiss me.

“Later, we’ve got time”

 ===

 

I woke to the sun setting through the back windows, orange light fading against what looked like blossom trees. I couldn't be exact on the genus and species as my view was obscured by the coffee table legs. We were squashed up on the floor between the couch and the table, an afghan over us both, Armie hugging me close from behind. I scratched his hand and his fingers flexed.

“Mmm?”

“Sustenance, yes?”

“M'kay.” He snuggled in to the back of my neck again.

I smiled, patted his hand and extricated myself from his grip and up from the floor. Ouch. I cricked my neck to both sides. I wasn't getting any younger, stretched my arms up from side to side.

“Mmm, that’s a hell of a view.”

I turned around and looked down at him. “Really?”

“Yes, bring that ass back down here.” He sat up and patted his knees, but I reached down to pull him up instead.

“Feed me, feed me please.” He stood up and squeezed my waist, our hard cocks sliding against each other.

“Goddamn, ya sure? Bedroom’s just upstairs, barely twenty feet away.” Smirking asshole.

I shook my head, twirled away from him and towards the kitchen.

He huffed after me, “okay, but here”. He handed me an apron that said ‘kiss the cook’ on the bib. “Wouldn't want anything to scald your bits.”

“Thanks. Am I helping?”

“Yes please.”

We worked together to prepare spaghetti carbonara and fresh garlic bread, me chopping herbs, him doing the heavy lifting of the actual cooking, a plain black apron folded in half just covering his beautiful cock and showing off that spectacular ass every time he turned away from me. Halfway through cooking, noodles boiling in a big pot, he held two eggs over the saucepan. “No allergies?”

“Not to eggs, no, just the usual...mornings, racists, psychotic old men trying to discreetly rub one out in the children’s section-“

“What? Seriously? Ew!” He cracked both eggs in one hand in to the pan and threw the shells into the trashcan like they’d personally offended him.

“Yeh, I know, beyond gross, Mr Heger last Monday. I caught him. Thank god there were no kids there, I got the impression he wanted to sex up the Seuss books.” Oh my god, Timothée, stop, just close your mouth. “I, anyway…well, dinner looks good.” I leaned over the pan.

“Oh no, you don’t get to stop there, with Heger spooge by the Grinch. What the hell happened next?”

“You seriously want to hear this?”

Armie turned the heat down on the burners and turned fully to me, pulling me into that cave of manly arms and chest hair. Mmm, I rubbed my face against his chest, then his collarbone and he lifted my chin with his index finger to look him in the eyes. “Yes, Timothée fricking Chalamet, I want to hear this story, then another story, then everything, all of it. You’re a lot more interesting than you think you are and I’m gonna prove that to you, one story at a time. He kissed me then hugged me, I wanted to drown in his chest, his smell, his arms, goddammit. “Then, at some point in the future, I’m gonna find whatever idiot made you feel that you’re not worthy of loving attention and I’m going to beat the shit outta him, FYI. “ He kissed the top of my head and turned back to the stove, turning the burners up again. “Now, back to Mr Heger and his masturbatory habits in public places.”


	8. The F word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cup of tea isn't the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so short, a mere vignette but I wanted to move things on a bit in the present time. There's a lot and I really mean a lot of "Fucks" in this update.

**Now.**

I came downstairs to him leafing through the books on the shelf by the fireplace. My socked feet meant he hadn’t heard me enter the living room so I got to look at his ass for a sec. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do with him now, how long he’d stay, what he’d want to do, at what point I’d stop wanting to punch his face in, I dunno. I coughed to get his attention, he hastily pushed a book back onto the shelf and turned around.

“So, you’re here now but honestly, I don’t know what to do with you.” I swayed from side to side across the room from him.

He tried a smile, “there was a time we both would’ve known the answer to that. Mind if I sit?”

Idiot. I shook my head at him, not sure if he was deliberately poking the bear or not. “Yes, well, I guess that time was just in my head…Fuck’s sake, sit down. I’ll make some tea.” I rolled my eyes as of course he followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the door-frame.

“Where’s Turnip?”

Fuck. “He died. Didn’t see the point in getting another cat.” And in the grand list of 1001 things I really don’t want to talk about, goddamn Turnip’s right up there. Soppy old cat. “You weren’t here, it was about a year ago. Anyway, Earl Gray?” Fuck talking about Turnip, fuck you Armie, you and your fucking sad face and your fucking feet and your fucking gorgeous goddamn ass. I busied myself with getting out two mugs, putting the kettle on the stove, finding the last drops of milk, spoons, normal things for normal people, not him, never him.

“Erm, yeh, Earl Gray's great, thanks. Timmy? Timothée.” He grabbed my hand away from the cutlery drawer, held onto it. “I’m really sorry about Turnip, he was a great cat.”

I pulled my hand out of his, slapped his hand away. “Yes, yes Armie, he was. Turnip was a great cat. And, you know what? You were a great boyfriend, until you fucking well weren’t!" He wanted the bear, he was gonna get it. “Goddamnit!” I threw the mug against the cupboard, smashing the crap out of it.

Armie stepped back but still watched me with those eyes of his. “That was your favourite Star Wars mug. It was a limited edition.”

I started poking him in the chest. “Fuck you, Armie, seriously fucking fuck you! You were there and then you were gone! I didn’t even know there was a goddamn wife called Liz and kids called Harper and Ford until I saw you on the front of some stupid magazine in the store, a week after I’d woken up and you were.fucking.gone! And who the fuck calls their kid Ford! Why not Chrysler or Toyota, huh?!” I pushed him out of my way. “I can’t, I can’t deal with you. I don’t know what I was even thinking when I invited you in, not now, not then!”

“I never got the chance to explain, we were going through some shit, were separated, I thought I was figuring my shit out and then you-“

I screamed at him as I ran up the stairs, “I DON’T CARE!” I ran into my bedroom, slammed the door shut, dived under the blankets, fuck him, seriously fuck him.


	9. Doors lie silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie is an idiot. But...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say thank you for all the kudos, the lurking reading, the comments, I love it all and I've pretty much fallen in love with these versions of Timmy and Armie, dorks that they both are.

**Now, still.**

“Timmy? Timmy? You awake?”

I folded myself deeper into my blanket burrito, fuck him. I’d tried to block him out, pulled the sheets and the blankets on the bed over my head, grabbed a pillow and tucked myself into my blanket escape den. Nothing could get to me here, I was impenetrable, a forcefield of hate, I was-

“Timmy, you don’t have to answer but I need to talk to you, can you just let me know you’re listening?”

I threw a pillow at the locked door with all the force I could gather while lying down. It just whumped against the door, a pitiful cotton sigh, stupid skinny arms with all the strength of a stray kitten.

“Okay…so…I’m just gonna sit here and talk. You don’t have to talk back or anything, I just figured…well. I’ll say what I’m going to say and then I’ll leave you alone. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, you know, coming here and dumping my shit on you. That wasn't fair, I know that. I’m not sure you get it though, so yeh.”

I slipped my head back up on to the remaining pillows quietly, I couldn’t hear him all muffled under my forcefield of hate, what of it?

“When we were together, no, before that, when we first met, I don’t think you still have any idea what you did to me. You looked down at me from that ladder and I was…god, just gone. Completely and utterly. My heart just swooped, down to the floor and back up again. And you were just so small, not literally, just you looking all pissed at me that I’d disturbed your time. Then you just took me with you, so many changes from you in that short meeting, hatred, shock, excitement, concern – everything, all over your face. I walked away that day and I knew I’d made the right decision two months earlier, separating from Liz, my…well, she’s still my wife but I don’t know why anymore. Anyway, I’m jumping ahead. That day? That day I walked away from your library, from you and I knew I wanted to know you better, really, I wanted to know you more, know everything about you, not just physically and what was hidden under those prissy clothes.”

I rolled my eyes, not that he could see that.

“I wanted to know the reasons behind every single emotion flitting across your face, your gorgeous face. I wanted to find whoever had made you feel so small and beat the absolute living shit outta them. I just wanted you, just you. And I got it, you know? I got to talk to you and be with you and listen to you and you just made everything better…everything.”

I sighed and moved over to the window seat, cracked the window open and lit up one of the cigarettes I’d been keeping in the back of my bedside drawer, it tasted a bit of the tape I’d used to hide it there. The duck tape was supposed to stop me smoking it, alas.

“You still there?”

Damn him and his monkey ears. I grabbed the window seat cushion next to me and threw that at the door, happy it made a louder whack than the pillow.

He laughed, “okay, yeh, good…so, I want you to know I loved being with you, talking with you, I loved it, I still do, even being here with you now, the swoop in my heart comes back every time.”

For fuck’s sake.

“That morning, when I had to leave, I’d been awake for hours. I didn't know what to do. I’d had a year of absolute awakened heaven with you, I didn't want to leave, I didn't, you have to believe me. I’d met with everyone the week before, my lawyers, the trust lawyers, my agent, my publicists. Two whole days of hell, of trying to figure out how I could come out, that’s what I wanted to do. I’m not swearing my innocence in all this, I shouldn't have listened to them, to any of them, but I did. All I could think at the end of those meetings was that it’d destroy you, it’d destroy me. Ford, I love him, I do, but he was a very drunk mistake. He was so small still and everyone was telling me that was it, if I came out, that’d be it. No more acting, no more family, you’d be all over the papers as a home-wrecker, paps would be everywhere here, she’d have taken Harper and Ford from me completely, no visits, nothing. Ha! What a load of bullshit considering what happened yesterday. Almost the same outcome but you…you haven’t been destroyed in any of this, I couldn't let that happen then and not now either.”

I got up from the window seat, stubbed my cigarette out in a coffee cup, stood in front of the door. I wanted to reach out to him, so wanted to. What an idiot, thinking he was protecting me then, leaving me in misery.

“So, yeh, I left. I thought about a note but I just couldn't think of the words, I was so lost, wanted to do the right thing by all of you, fucked that right up, clearly. I went back, back to my kids, back to her, back to my life that I couldn't recognize. Every day I thought about you, every day. I tried with Liz, I really tried. Vacations everywhere, red carpets, events, the same bed, everything. Didn't work, nothing worked. I've been sleeping in one of the guest rooms for over a year.” He chucked to himself. “Maybe this was all for the best. I was so stuck, I loved you so much but I thought I was doing the right thing by staying away, I dreaded the thought of another of those two day meetings where everyone, literally everyone, made me feel like I was a monster. Well, turns out I am anyway.”

I crumpled down to the floor, rested my head against the door, raised my hand to feel where he probably was on the other side, like his heat could reach me through the wood.

A deep sigh from him and then, “Timmy, I’m gonna go now, this was a bad idea and I’m so sorry I intruded on your life again. I was being selfish, like always. I just wanted to see you again, you're the only person I wanted to see. I've been trying to sort out a film in Italy. I mean, that’s not going to happen now but I figured I’d go anyway, get away for a while. Leave you alone. I don’t want you to hate me, Timmy, I never did. I loved you, I still...well.”

I started crying and I couldn't stop, tears pooling on the floor. I couldn't move, I listened to him through the door, get up, walk down the stairs, leave.

Again.


	10. Cake. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rough day so Timmy's coming with me. Again, thanks for all the love, it makes my day, even when it's rough :)

**Later.**

“Hey sweetie, it’s me, you gonna let me in?”

I sat up from the floor, scrubbed my hands over my face, unlocked my bedroom door, opened it to Kirsty’s feet and lots of bags, then her face as she knelt down and dragged me into a hug.

“Fuck, Timmy, baby, I know, I know.”

I couldn't stop crying, bless whoever created the word bereft as I was it, very much so. I leaned back, tried to wipe my snot off her sweater shoulder. “How did you know?”

“He came to see me, told me he had to go but that I needed to close early and come over. He looked, well, truly, truly dreadful. Like he’d just run over a stray dog and drove away. I guessed you were the dog.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. He just stood there, at the counter, people spotting him, Mrs Caron all of a quiver by the large print shelves. He said he was sorry, left a MAGA cap on the desk and just walked out. Mrs Caron followed him.”

Of course she did, horny old bird.

“Said he got into a car with blacked out windows and a driver, he left, didn't even turn around when Mrs Caron shrieked out ‘Mr Hammer’ to him. I got everyone out of there, locked up and remembered your spare key under the parsley pot.” She hugged me again, ruffled my hair. “Come on, I've got goodies.” She started rummaging in the bags, “an entire coffee cake with dark chocolate glaze, Mexican, Italian and Chinese take-out, a forty and a bottle of scotch, chips, dips, more chocolate, you name it, it’s here.”

“Kirsty?”

“Yeh hun?”

“Thank you. Can we stay here for a while, just for a bit?” I couldn't even fathom getting off the floor right now, he’d come back into my life, spread my guts all over this house, then left.

Kirsty smiled softly at me, pulled the cake box out of one of the bags, opened it up in front of me and swiped her finger through the icing, licking it with a pop of her lips. “Indubitably, princeling, indubitably.”

 

**Later still.**

I moved to sit with my back against the wall, stomach very full. “I can’t believe we ate the whole cake.”

Kirsty scrunched up the packets lying around us both, squashed the cake box down. “And the chocolate and the chips. I’ll put the take-out in your kitchen for later.” She moved to sit next to me and I lay my head on her shoulder, as she moved her arm around me, stroking my hair.

“What am I gonna do, Kirst?”

“Do you need to do anything, I mean, right now? He didn't leave you with an ultimatum, did he? He had no right to-“

“No, no, he didn't.” I couldn’t get the words out of my head but I couldn't tell her what he’d said, it felt like a big bubble just for the two of us to be inside, jesus, I missed him. “He’s going to Italy.”

“Oh?” Kirsty was clearly dying to know what he said but she managed to restrain herself, just opened up the bottle of scotch, took a big gulp and passed it to me.

“Thanks.” I took a couple of swigs, wiped my mouth, took a couple more. Passing out sounded good right about now, I just had to move back on to the bed at some point.

“You know, you’re gonna be okay, don’t you? You honestly don’t seem as fucked up as last time.”

I snorted at her and passed the bottle back.

“When I found you last time, I honestly crapped myself, I really didn't know what to do, who to call.”

I grabbed her hand, “I never did thank you, did I? Thank you, Kirsty, a thousand thank yous.” I was still so ashamed of myself back then. The day I saw the magazine in Market Basket, I bought two bottles of JD, went home in a daze, googled the shit out of Armie and his stupid beautiful wife and goddamn perfect kids and, at some point, passed out clutching the toilet rim in my bathroom. That’s where Kirsty found me, dragged me into the shower, cleaned me up, put me to bed. She closed the library for a week, unheard of in its 160-year history, put a note on the door blaming asbestos removal and she stayed, she stayed with me. For a whole week, night and day, made sure anything sharp was out of reach, gave me tissues, soup, chocolate, warmth, friendship. A debt I still owed to her, the sassy girl that she is.

“Well, I’d say anytime but I’d really rather not, you’re so much more sorted now, even if you can’t see it. And anyway, fuck Armie fucking Hammer, truly, what an asshole. I have  a mind to go to Italy myself and slap him round the face, hard.”

I giggled at that image, Davina and Goliath. “No, I’m glad, in a way, glad he came. At least I can put it all to rest now and move on…somehow.”

“Well, my google-fu from today showed me you're not missing much, all that fame, so superficial, all bullshit really. That wife of his has really thrown him to the wolves, saying she knew all along, calling him a sex pest, jesus. With wives like that, who needs enemies, really. He’s better off without and so are you.” She nodded abruptly.

I side eyed her.

“Well, right now anyway. And what kind of life is that for you, eh? Too much fake shit, no realness there at all. I swear, as bad as he looked today, I’m pretty sure I saw eye lifts.”

I laughed at her, “no, you didn't, you bullshitter.”

“No, I didn't, made you smile though.” She elbowed my side. “Nah, no fakery, just a bit broken…Do you think, if you went to see him?”

I shook my head and got up, stumbled over to the bed, launched myself on it face down. “No, whatever you’re thinking, just no. I can’t, Kirsty, I just can’t. Like you said, all bullshit really but I’m just not built for it. Once the photos are old news, he’ll be back in the middle of it again, there’s no room for little old me in that world, I’m better off here, my books, my library, everything I have here…”

I felt a hand run through my hair then it was lights out for little old Timothee.


End file.
